


Once More With Feeling

by Fncking_werewolves



Category: Glee
Genre: (It's not crack), Buffy AU, F/F, Minor Character Death, Punk! Quinn, Slayer! Rachel, but if will is ur fave u have bigger issues than this fic, but your faves are safe, for gays, how could i forget that its very important, is it crack? Nobody knows, its a gay story, oh I forgot, probably, this is gay, unless ur faves are will schuester or some shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fncking_werewolves/pseuds/Fncking_werewolves
Summary: The unfinished memoirs of the late great Rachel Barbara Berry, she saved the world a little (and belted out some KILLER show tunes)AKA Berry the Vampire SlayerThat's right folks, in this, 2020, the year of our lord, I am writing a Faberry BtVS AU. You're welcome.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Once More With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the Hellmouth (adjacent).  
> Hello and welcome to Lima, Ohio,  
> A three-point-something hour drive from Cleveland, Ohio,  
> Where there is a Hellmouth.  
> Well aint that some [redacted]. 
> 
> The watchers council invites you to sit back, enjoy the show, and tip the performers (especially rachel berry she has a very pressing need for a lot of religious jewellery and pointy sticks and those don't come cheap, except maybe the sticks)
> 
> I'll be updating tags/ships etc as the story progresses.  
> Updates will be sporadic, as I am a being of pure chaos who cannot be tamed.

**_Chapter one, My Life B.S. (Before-Slaying)_ **

_Welcome, dear reader, to the book of my life. We start in the middle of my triumphant, but troubled, teen years. I spent the throes of my youth at William McKinley High School, Lima Ohio, and while I excelled academically and creatively, I was - tragically - on the receiving end of some vicious bullying at the hands of my peers. As you can imagine, my inner star has always been shining, and I couldn’t possibly dim that aspect of myself to ‘fit in’. I was captain of the glee club, member of the mock UN, the black students union, brief member of the celibacy club, and almost member of the sadly non-existent gay-lesbian alliance. It was obvious I was destined for greater things, and those around me clearly struggled with my forward trajectory, jealous of my innate ability to rise to the top. I won’t go into details of my torments, but I’ll put it this way - a slushie to the face is one [redacted] of a cold open…_

**_\- Rachel Barbara Berry, Once More With Feeling_**

I.

Rachel Berry spent the first ten minutes of the second day of her final year of high school in the bathroom, trying to get the bright red corn-starch residue and blue-raspberry smell off of her face. And hair. And clothes. 

She sniffed and avoided looking at herself in the mirror, _I will not cry today._

So far, the year wasn’t going at all like she’d planned. The slushies she’d expected - she could deal with those - but the team weren’t at all behaving like she’d envisioned, the second Finn had come back to school and been surrounded by those football oafs it felt like he’d forgotten everything they’d worked on over the summer to turn him into a dashing leading man. 

Worst of all, was the Quinn problem. Rachel thought that Quinn of all people understood winning - needing to be the best. It was highly selfish of her to have some sort of breakdown at the very beginning of their last chance to succeed.

Nobody had seen her since yesterday morning, Rachel herself hadn’t even been able to find her - try as she might to search all over the school for any sign of blonde hair and a scowl. 

Quinn had appeared at the school the previous day wearing black and sporting a, frankly terrible, bright pink dye job (Tina was convinced she’d somehow inspired the look but Rachel was doubtful) and then fled the scene immediately in a cloud of cigarette smoke. 

During one of her searches she’d overheard the football club laughing about Quinn walking to her car at speed wearing oversized sunglasses and holding a blanket over her head, but Rachel dismissed this because Quinn Fabray would never be caught doing something so undignified. 

Brittany had calmly explained to everyone in the choir room that Quinn must be a vampire, but Rachel had dismissed that too (for obvious reasons), and shot Santana a particularly pointed look when she cackled and made a highly inappropriate joke about sucking. 

And then, on top of everything else, there were the dreams. She had half a mind to approach Brittany and give her a lecture on the importance of avoiding potentially horrific and sleep disturbing topics (such as vampires) during such a pivotal time in her young life, but she was afraid of the reaction this would provoke in Santana which would very probably be a nightmare inducing topic all on its own. 

She’d been tossing and turning all night, every time she dropped off her conscious mind would fade into some sort of twisted fantasy where she was lying in a flower-filled meadow or running through the trees with some beautiful sparkly individual. This is all well and good except instead of dreamy leading man Robert Pattinson it was a very butch-looking Quinn Fabray and instead of the blue tones prevalent in the Twilight movies it was all tinted a bloody red and oh god she was _never_ telling her fathers they were right about watching those films being a terrible idea. 

She splashed cool water on her face and examined the bags under her eyes before standing up straight and giving out a decisive huff. Today she was going to get her year back on track. She would change out of this slushy-soaked shirt, remind Finn of his leading-man potential, and - most importantly - bring Quinn Fabray back to glee. 

II.

By the time glee club rolled around Rachel was dead on her feet. She had almost resorted to coffee in the cafeteria, which is indicative of seriously dire straits as she abstains from caffeine (coffee is terrible for your skin, voice and teeth and therefore - to preserve her future stardom - she has vowed against it, no matter how convenient the energy boost would be). 

However, she has been working on her ‘regionals to nationals, winning competitions the New Directions way!’ Plan since the second day of summer break, and she _will_ share it, tiredness be damned!

“Mr Schue, I believe I have the perfect welcome back assignment for the club.”

She stands and makes her way to the front of the choir room, choosing to ignore the collective groan at her proclamation. Mr Schue gives her a rather intense look, but concedes the spotlight to her (as he should).

As she is standing in front of the glee club she finds herself blinking away a bout of double vision, and frowns - reminding herself to have a serious talk with Brittany - before composing herself, and beginning the well-rehearsed speech,

“While our loss at nationals was… Disappointing-“

“And who’s fault is that Berry!” Santana calls, obviously still bitter, Rachel locks eyes with Finn and is relieved to see that he at least looks sheepish,

“-Yes, well. It’s behind us now. The least we can do is… Focus on…” The double vision is getting worse,

“Oh dear,” She mumbled, “I feel a bit woozy.”

“Rachel, are you alright?” Mr Schue was looking at her with concern, it took her a moment to realise his hand was on her shoulder. She did wish he wouldn’t do that. She shook her head slightly, waking herself up.

“I’m fine, thank you. Now, where was I,”

“Get to the point, stubbles!”

“ _Santana_ , that’s enough.” Mr Schue turned back to her, “You were telling us your idea for this week’s assignment?”

At that moment, the hairs on the back of Rachel’s neck stood on end, she repressed a shiver but pressed on,

“Right. Yes. In order to nurture a winning environment I believe we should…”

The feeling was getting stronger, 

“We should practice doing…”

A whisper rippled through the choir room, unheard to everyone but Rachel,

_S l a y e r_

“…Slayer?”

Puck let out a whoop, snapping Rachel back to reality, “That’s what I’m talking about Jew-babe! Dibs on raining blood, Lemme just tune down my guitar-“

“ _No death metal!_ ” Mr Schue’s voice was final. He turned to face her,

“Rachel, do you need to see the nurse?”

She let out a shaky breath, before plastering on a smile - plans for regionals still clasped to her chest - “No thank you, Mr Schue, I assure you I’m alright, just… Tired. I think I’ll take this opportunity to sit down for a while.”

She returned to her seat beside Finn, still feeling woozy. He put an arm round the back of her chair and she leaned in to him, for once enjoying his stature. In her sleepy state she was certain it felt just like leaning back into a warm armchair. 

The rest of the club had turned into white noise, and she was sure he was asking her something, but she was already drifting off…

_When she opened her eyes, it was to a dark and empty choir room._

_She gasped, looking around - she must’ve been more tired than she thought, although there was some sense of disbelief that everyone would have just left her there. Okay maybe Santana, and Brittany… Noah… Maybe even Mercedes and Artie. But surely not Kurt, or Tina, or Finn!_

_She clutched her papers tighter to her chest, expecting them to jump out and scare her for laughs._

_She heard a rustle from the corner of the room and turned, ready to scold whoever was playing this new and ridiculous trick, but there was no one there - just shadows._

_Behind her again, she flinched at the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor._

_“Okay, whoever it is you can stop now.” She said, trying to steel her voice,_

_She turned, but again there was nobody, just a chair sitting in the centre of the room._

_Instinctively her hands latched on tighter to the papers in her hands, but when she squeezed she realised it didn’t feel like her perfectly organised trapper keeper, it felt… Bigger, leathery…_

_She squeezed her eyes tight, letting out a breath through her nose, before steeling herself to open her eyes. She held out her arms, bracing herself to look at-_

_…a book?_

_Before her she held out a large leather-bound title, old and musty, with large gold letters dominating the front inscribed VAMPYR._

_She gasped, dropping the book on instinct, and it landed in front of her with a loud thud._

_She heard the rustle again, and before she could turn to confront it a pair of strong hands seized her arms and she felt the pin pricks of two sharp teeth against her-_

**_“Rachel!”_ **

She opened her eyes, breathing heavily,

The concerned faces of Finn, Tina, Kurt and Mr Schue were all in front of her, 

Wait. 

Not in front of her. 

Above her?

She immediately realised three things: 

  1. She was on the floor 
  2. She was definitely awake, and 
  3. Her perfect nationals plan was falling from the air in hundreds of sheets of impressively marked-up paper.



She sat up (narrowly avoiding a five-way headbutt), took a second to breathe, and then answered their questions ( _“Yes, I’m fine.” “Yes, I’m sure,” “No, I’m not on anything, Kurt!”_ ) 

Someone asks what she was dreaming about and try as she might to remember all she can say is that she’s not sure.

However, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t rattled. She began to gather up her papers, ignoring the jeers from Santana… 

“Who’s keeping you up all night Berry ‘cause I know from experience it isn’t the pillsbury dough boy!”

…and heckles of her prospective song choices from Puck,

“Gaga? Damn Rachel I’m not doing that kiss make up again it _stained_ my _eyebrows_ last time,”

She turned to Finn once she’d clipped everything back into place

“Will you take me home, please? I’m not feeling well.”

“Yeah, Rach, of course.” He smiles at her and reaches out for her hand, which is generally a tried and tested method for calming her down, she frowns slightly at the feeling of unease still crawling up her spine. He doesn’t seem to notice, 

“Sorry Mr Schue, I’ll do that survivor song next week instead.”

Mr Schue sighs, but clasps him on the shoulder and turns to the class.

“Well since Finn was our last performance of the day I guess we’ll just call it quits.”

There are a few whoops from the back of the room, which Mr Schue deftly ignores, and as Rachel and Finn go to leave he calls out,

“Rachel wait, I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

She turns and tries to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes, 

“Can’t it wait Mr Schue? I really would like to get home.”

He gives her a knowing look, 

“It’s important.”

She sighs, “all right. Finn, would you wait for me?” Finn opens his mouth to reply but Mr Schuh steps in,

“It’s all right Finn you go ahead, I’ll drive Rachel home.”

“Thanks Mr Schue,” He grins, “I’ll see you tomorrow Rach.”

“I can’t help but point out that I did not agree to this.” She says, watching Finn chase after Puck down the hall,

“Come in to my office Rachel, I’ve got something to show you.”

She followed him, intrigued,

“Now, I can’t help but notice that you haven’t done as many character-based performances lately,”

Rachel perked up, at least this was about her talent,

“And while I disapprove of the genre of your earlier suggestion, I think the idea has some great potential to do something a little outside of the box.”

“My earlier suggestion? Wait- Slayer?! Mr Schue I-“

“Rachel, please. Now, I’ve got some research materials here, and - as team captain -I’d like for you to pursue an individual assignment.”

“But that wasn’t really a suggestion it w-“

“Rachel! This idea has real potential, don’t you want the solo?”

She stilled at that, ridiculous as the idea was there’s no denying that Rachel Berry isn’t one to turn down a solo. 

She sighed

“What do you mean by outside of the box?”

Mr Schue slid a DVD across the table,

“I’m looking for something that’ll give us a little more edge.”

“The lost boys? Mr Schuester I think this is more Tina’s wheelhouse,”

He looked at her seriously, “You and I both know you’re the only one with the range for cry little sister, Rachel.”

“While I can say with all honesty that you are probably correct without having even the slightestidea what you’re talking about, I can also say it is incredibly unwise and irresponsible for you as my teacher to instruct me to watch a horror movie!”

“Just think about it, for the glee club. Vampires are very in right now.”

At mention of the word she had a flashback an empty choir room, a leather bound book, and fangs at her neck. She visibly shuddered. 

“I’d like to go home now, Mr Schue.”

He sighs, “Alright Rachel, let me get my keys.”

As he leaves the office, she eyes the DVD on the desk and - against her better judgement - slips it into her bag.

III.

Later, lying in bed, she can’t seem to drift off, maybe because of the disturbing dreams she’s been having of late.

Her mind drifts back to the baffling car ride with Mr Schue, 

The entire 10 minutes it takes to get from the school to her house were spent with him very loudly singing variations on the (admittedly classic) song ’someone to watch over you’, in between taking his eyes off the road to attempt very intense eye contact.

_“Just think about it Rachel, pay attention to your dreams!”_

She frowns in distaste at the memory, trying to find some rational explanation for his behaviour beyond, well, the obvious.

Mr Schue had never been _that_ creepy, despite any propensity for following teenage boys into showers. 

But, there was no other explanation. The ride home, the song, the looks… 

She shuddered. 

_I’ll have to have a serious talk with him in the morning, make sure he remembers what happened to Mr Ryerson._

IV.

The next morning once again passes in a daze, last night’s dream had been a particularly disturbing flashback to their never-shown rocky horror show, with Mr. Schue looming over her and saying ‘creature of the night!’ Repeatedly. She shuddered again at the memory, and took her place at the lunch table with Kurt, Tina and Mercedes. 

As she sat down she realised they were talking about Quinn and inwardly groaned, her quest to find Quinn and return her to glee club was not going well. In fact, nobody had seen or heard from her since her dramatic exit two days before. Of course it would be the subject of gossip. There was something about the situation that bothered Rachel though (aside from the obvious disadvantage the lack of Quinn’s tremulous alto and Hollywood good looks would put them in at regionals), it was like she’d forgotten something, a niggling feeling at the back of her mind. She did not like it one bit. 

“…I hear she’s taken up with the skanks.” Kurt said, revelling in the gossip,

Mercedes scoffed, “Girl you _know_ that’s just a rumour - nobody’s seen her, just because she’s dressed like some punk rock disaster doesn’t mean she’s joined the local girl gang.” 

Tina looked up at this, “I actually like her new look.”

They both give her a once over, “Of course you do.” 

Rachel let them bicker for a minute, pretending to focus on unpacking her lunch box. She lined each item up on her tray (sandwich, sliced vegetables with hummus dip, thermos of green tea - it’s _full_ of antioxidants - and an apple to finish it off) and quietly listened to their suspicions, filing them away. When the suggestions officially reached the ridiculous (cults and demonic possession were mentioned), she cleared her throat.

“I suppose nobody wants to hear about the strange conversation I had with Mr Schuester last night?”

Mercedes eyed her warily, Kurt just rolled his eyes, “Define ' _strange’._ ”

Rachel could tell they were expecting something less than scandalous and decided to take her time, idly playing with her food before casually saying,

“Oh, just that he was very obviously _flirting_ with me _._ ”

Tina gasped, “No way!”

Kurt looked suspicious, “This isn’t like last time is it? Because that made everyone uncomfortable.”

“Yeah Rachel no offence but we’ve been here before.”

Rachel rolled her eyes,

“I assure you this is very different to last time and I have grown up a lot since then thank you very much.”

She has their attention now, and wastes no time in launching into an (only slightly exaggerated) recounting of the night before, how he sent Finn away before showering her in gifts and serenading her on the ride home. She finishes her story by reaching into her bag and pulling out the Lost Boys DVD, placing it on the table with a flourish. 

She looked around the table at their responses, Tina immediately went for the DVD, turning it over to read the back, Mercedes had a dreamy look on her face, and Kurt just looked mildly disgusted by the entire thing.

“You know this is actually a really good film, I’m surprised Mr. Schue likes it.” Tina looked up at Rachel, “I mean, the other stuff is totally gross and inappropriate, but I’ll totally watch this with you if you want.”

“I’m with Tina,” Kurt said, taking a sip of his coffee, “About it being gross and inappropriate, I will absolutely not watch that movie with you. But no, what is his game plan here? Has he gone totally insane?” He stops for a second, “No offence Rachel, I just mean that he’s your _teacher._ ”

Rachel holds up a hand in response, “No offence taken Kurt, I’m hardly flattered by the experience.” She shuddered, “In fact, it led to a terrible nights sleep and some highly disturbing dream material.”

Kurt makes a face at this, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns to Mercedes,

“You’ve been oddly silent about all of this.”

She seems to snap out of whatever daydream her head had been in, “Huh? Oh I was just thinking… It would be nice if he would pay some attention to the rest of us, I mean, he hardly needs to bribe you to get you to do a solo, Rachel.” 

Kurt looks incredulous, “Seriously? That’s your takeaway from this entire situation? Our glee club leader could be on to catch a predator and you’re thinking about the solos?” He paused, reflecting, “Not that you don’t have a point. But seriously Mercedes, theres some _juicy_ gossip here.” 

He turns back to Rachel, “What’re you doing to do?”

She groans, putting her head in her hands, “Honestly Kurt I’d like to just forget the whole thing. I suppose I’ve got to talk to him about it, confront him…”

Tina puts the DVD down and reaches a hand over, placing it on Rachel’s arm, “Want me to come with? I could hex him if you like.” 

Kurt gives her the side eye, “You could what?”

She retracts her hand, taking back the DVD box and reading the back intently, “Oh, nothing.” 

“Maybe we could all go?” Rachel looks at them hopefully, “I don’t think it would be pertinent to have this conversation without witnesses.”

They agree as the bell rings, deciding to meet this evening to decide tactics and approach him the next day after Glee. 

Mercedes turns as they’re getting up from the table, “You just better promise not to confront him in song.” 

Rachel rolls her eyes and heads to class.

V.

Across town, in the basement of a comfortably middle class suburban house, there is a meeting. If you were to walk through the house, you would be hard pressed to find anything amiss. It is decorated somewhat predictably, family pictures on the walls, a large mirror above the fireplace, lace doilies on the pristine furniture. At a glance, you would say the family who lived there are heavily religious - there is a cross in every room, each a differently sized and ornately detailed depiction of the crucifixion. If you looked closer, you would notice that they are all turned upside down. 

Now, back to the basement. Much like the rest of the house, it would appear to be perfectly ordinary - some sort of games den, pool table, mini bar… 

Well, the exception would of course be the odd symbol painted across the floor, the abundance of candles, and the collection of people sitting in the darkened room in a circle, even if the chairs are perfectly well-matched. 

(The funny thing, you would notice, is that the people wouldn’t look out of place in the house at all, if it weren’t for their positioning in the basement). 

There is one chair left empty, and an air of impatience in the room.

One man stands out, he is sitting at the head of the circle. Normally a circle wouldn’t have a head, but in this case it definitely does, and its existence seems called in to being purely because The Man is sitting at it. He clears his throat, and every gaze in the room falls on him, waiting for him to speak,

“I received a text today.” He says, in a gravelly voice. He has a slight southern drawl which sounds like it has faded with age, like he has been away for a very long time.

“A text?” An older voice says, surprised,

“Yes, a text.” The first voice snaps. “This is the 21st century for Christs sake.”

“It is?” Says the older voice again, sounding just as surprised as before, “Oh my.”

Another voice chimes in, a woman’s this time, and she is impatient, “What did the text _say,_ daddy?”

“It’s about the Slayer.”

A gasp ripples throughout the circle, _“the Slayer”_ is whispered by each member in unison,

The young woman speaks again,

“Is she..? Oh daddy please tell me it worked.”

The man referred to as ‘Daddy’ chuckles,

“Yes, the movement in Cleveland was a success. The Slayer is dead.”

A smattering of applause runs throughout the room, but is silenced by the man at the head of the circle,

“It’s not time for that yet - this slayer’s, ahem, demise, was just step one in the plan, and it is one that comes with it’s own complications. If we want the Hellmouth to open then we have to act now-"

He is interrupted as the basement door slams open, the circle of people collectively hiss at the light that follows. 

The ragged figure of a woman is silhouetted in the doorway. She steps into the basement and walks towards the empty chair, trailing cigarette smoke. She is wearing large sunglasses and a heavy leather jacket, a fishnet-clad hand reaches up to ruffle badly dyed pink hair as she takes her seat.

“Sorry I’m late.” She says. (She doesn’t sound sorry to be late at all). 

The young woman from before is the first to speak, “You could at least close the door behind you you little sh-“

The Man speaks, 

“Francine. Close the door.” 

She gasps incredulously, but stands regardless, and shuts the door before sitting back down in a huff.

The Man turns to the newcomer and smiles,

“Glad you decided to join us, Quinn.”

She looks up in response, but doesn’t remove her sunglasses, absently flicking at a lighter with her left hand.

Russell Fabray addresses her again,

“There’s going to be a new slayer in town.” He says, almost dismissively,

Her left hand stills.

He continues, 

“I expect you to take care of it.”

VI.

It was starting to get dark out when Rachel left the Auditorium, and she pulled her pea coat snugly against her neck. She had been practicing her number for this week’s glee assignment, trying to decide on a new song to sing as her initial choice (a duet of the beat goes on by Sonny and Cher) had fallen through. She was frustrated at Finn for not informing her he already had a performance planned. In any case, she had lost track of time.

She frowned down at her phone, it was past 7 and she’d missed the opportunity to call her daddy for a ride home before his shift. At least she didn’t live _too_ far from the school.

She shivered at the chill in the air and began to walk, wanting to get a move on before it was pitch black out. Of course, there were always the streetlights. 

It’s when she’s walking past the second cemetery of the night that she starts to regret her route home (were there always so many cemeteries in Lima? Surely they used to be further apart at least…) 

She hears a rustle in the bushes behind her and picks up her pace. It’s really rather dark now. Was that a flash of pink? She tries to ignore it and walks a little faster.

Her messenger-style bag is heavy and bangs annoyingly against her thigh and she knows she’s going to have a bruise tomorrow, momentarily she regrets packing _three_ binders full of sheet music, but dismisses the thought - how was she supposed to pick the perfect song without giving herself options.

There was that rustling again, she turned and braced herself to face a possible assailant, hand automatically grabbing the emergency pepper spray in her right hand pocket, when she hears a shriek coming from inside the cemetery. 

All rustling is forgotten because she would recognise that falsetto anywhere. She rushed into the cemetery and towards Kurt, finding him face to face with a Large man (definitely deserving of the capital L).

The man was a trucker type, with an incredibly dirty double denim ensemble and, Rachel paused, what looked an unfortunate facial disfigurement? As she approached he stepped forward and prodded one big sausage-like finger against Kurt’s chest and Rachel surged forward, stepping between them. 

_“Rachel! Oh thank God, now let’s just get out of here quickly and forget this ever happened do you still have that pepper spray I think this guy is-“_

Kurt was speaking quickly and Rachel found her self being pulled backwards by the arm as he moved them deftly away from the figure. The trucker-type, however, was just looking at the two in amusement, really he seemed quite happy that she’d shown up. Maybe he was a fan? Musical theatre takes all types and she’d been in various Lima theatre productions over the years.

She was dimly aware that Kurt was still talking.

Abruptly, she steeled herself, fan or no fan this man had absolutely no right to scare her friend and she would absolutely be doing something about it. She firmly gripped her pepper spray and turned towards Kurt.

“I’m sorry Kurt this just won’t do, I won’t let anyone treat you like this he has to know that targeting people in secluded areas and _threatening_ them just isn’t okay. I can put up with the slushies and character-building high school nonsense but this is just unacceptable.”

Meanwhile, the man still hadn’t wiped the grin off of his face. How irritating. She defiantly raised her chin and marched towards him, her right hand holding the pepper spray and her left gripping the strap of her bag. 

“ _Rachel!_ ” Kurt hissed, “What are you _doing?!_ We should just go this man looks like he’s on _DRUGS_ and he smells like a-“

“Excuse me sir what do you think you were doing to my friend?” She was standing in front of him now, and she wrinkled her nose as she noted that yes there was a smell,

He showed no signs of having heard her, just gave her a slow once-over and picked something out of his teeth. His incredibly sharp teeth. Were those _fangs?_

She willed herself to believe that it was some sort of early halloween costume, a sick joke. Honestly she expected Karofsky and Azimio to jump out, yell _surprise!_ And slushy them both. What a relief that would be. 

The man stepped towards her,

“I feel obligated to let you know that I have a can of pepper spray in my right hand and I’m not afraid to use it.” This was rushed out in one breath as she tried to pretend she wasn’t terrified.

He just gave her another one of those horrible grins, 

“Try it, girly.” 

He looked down, and then back up, 

“I like your skirt.” 

Another step forward, correcting himself

“Well, I like your _legs._ ”

He made a grab for her and she gasped, pushing forward, and… more forward? Despite his size he seemed to weigh no more than Kurt and they gaped at each other with mirrored shocked expressions as they fell backwards in what felt like slow-motion. 

Somehow Rachel managed to right herself and send him careening back, but the contents of her bag spilled across the muddy grass between them.

They spoke simultaneously,

She panicked _“My planners!”_

He righted himself and growled, _“The Slayer.”_

Rachel bent forward to scoop up the binders and stationary that now littered the cemetery, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the man come charging at her, abruptly she stood and braced herself for the impact, eyes screwed shut and clutching in her hands in a single sharpened HB pencil. 

She squealed as she felt the pressure of the man run into her and then- Nothing? It had stopped abruptly, although that smell certainly lingered. When the collision she was expecting never came Rachel reluctantly opened her eyes, one after the other. She looked around, bracing herself for a second attack.

When she realised he was nowhere in sight, she looked down at the pencil she was still holding, then at the cloud of dust settling over her pristine sheet music, and finally her eyes landed on Kurt. He was standing a few paces away with a hand covering his mouth which was a perfect shocked o. 

“Oh my god,” He said, 

“This isn’t happening, this cannot be happening, I’m hallucinating, I hit my head and this is all an elaborate coma dream, any minute now I’ll wake up surrounded by beeping hospital machines, my dad will be holding my hand, and that awful man will not be a pile of _dust_.”

“Kurt…”

They locked eyes,

“Rachel…” 

Kurt was hyperventilating,

“That guy just… He just… He poofed! Into thin air! You poofed him!”

She looked down at the pencil and dropped it in horror, opening and closing her fists a couple times before turning back to Kurt, who was now leaning against a tombstone for support, 

“Now Kurt just calm down, I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this.” She began to pace back and forth, “He probably just ran away! Very fast! O-or somebody drove past on a motorcycle and he jumped on and-“

“Rachel he EXPLODED. I saw it, you saw it, well I suppose you had your eyes closed but still , it happened! See that dust?” He pointed, “That’s him!”

She stopped pacing and collapsed down beside him with a groan. 

Her mind was going a mile a minute, switching between the twilight movies and halloween parties and DVD cases and Brittany and Quinn and for some reason Mr Schue singing I will watch over you? It was all too much. She groaned again, and leaned her head on Kurt’s shoulder and he absentmindedly reached a hand up to pat her cheek. He was still staring directly forward, his mouth in that shocked o. 

“I think…” She said, 

“I think I have some research to do.”

VII.

From the top of a nearby mausoleum, Quinn Fabray watches. She turns, letting her head fall back against the roof and sighs, looking pointedly at the night sky.

“Berry? Really? Is this your idea of a sick joke?”


End file.
